


Rhythm and Rate

by boardpresence



Category: Jonnor - Fandom, The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:37:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boardpresence/pseuds/boardpresence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's one thing to have a crush, it's another thing when you're 3000 miles away from home, at a new school, with no friends, with no escape, and he lives across the hallway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wading In

          At the moment, Jude is sitting on his new bed.  He would rather be stowed away in the trunk of his mothers' rental car on the way back to the airport.  He could not seem to find the enthusiasm he once possessed about coming to boarding school.  He wondered where he lost it.  Probably when he was vomiting in the airplane bathroom.  That was special.  At any rate, there he was sitting on his new bed.

          The bed was one of two beds in the not terribly large room.  It would felt larger if the walls weren't covered in deeply carved wood panels that may have been thicker than his torso.  He was pretty sure that a species of tree had gone extinct building this dormitory and the rest of the sprawling campus.  If it wasn't made of brick or very large stones, it was made of wood.  It was more wood than Jude would have thought any person could have deemed necessary.  It was cozy and warm, for sure, but at the same time the only thing that seemed to rival the amount of wood was the number of fireplaces.  Fireplaces that seemed like they got regular use.  It struck Jude as a bit silly to start fires near all that very dry wood, but the school had been around since about 1850 so maybe there was a trick to it.  

          He looked at the other bed. It was currently occupied by a strange boy named Mehmet Ozdemir.  The only thing Jude had been able to determine about Mehmet was that he A) was the son of a Turkish diplomat, and B) totally comfortable wearing nothing but tight blue underwear.  The former he had discovered while his moms were speaking with Mehmet's mother and father when they were moving in earlier that morning.  The latter he discovered not long afterward when Mehmet came back from a shower and proceeded to lounge about the room without any hint of intent to dress himself further.  

          Mehmet looked up at Jude.  "Are you okay? You look like you're about to be ill." 

          Jude couldn't say for sure, but he was nearly certain that Mehmet had learned to speak English somewhere in England.  He filed that away as fact C.  Jude sat up a little bit straighter and tried to make himself look confident.  "No, I'm fine." He said, shaking his head.

          "This is your first boarding school, no?" Mehmet said as if he already knew the answer was yes.

          "Uh, yeah." Jude replied tentatively "how did you know?"

          "This is not my first go. Before this I was at a public school in the north of England."

          "Wait, I thought you just said you were at a boarding school?"

          "Yes, that's what it was.  Don't ask me why they called it a public school."  He shrugged his shoulders and resumed flipping through his copy of  _The Economist_. He glanced back up at Jude. "You'll be fine."

          "I guess." Jude watched him turn the pages.  "So, is this your first year here?"

          "Yes, we're all third formers in this house."

          "I still don't know why freshmen are called third formers." Jude said flatly.

          "It's because we're in the third form." Mehmet said dryly.

          Jude was not sure whether to be offended at the comment.  It sure sounded like it was meant to be an insult.

          Mehmet looked up again at Jude, scrutinizing his expression. "I was joking, you know."  

          "I missed the part where it was funny." Jude said, making every effort to sound friendly when he did it.

          "Americans always do." He flipped another page in his magazine.  

          Jude ignored the comment.  It had sparked some odd sense of patriotism that he felt was better left alone. "You didn’t say how you could tell this was my first boarding school."

          "It's easy to see that you're homesick, the way you're sitting on the edge of your bed and glaring out the window like that.  You want to go home." Mehmet observed casually.

          Jude let out a melancholic sigh. "And you're not homesick?"

          "I am. But I have the good sense to hide it." 

          This statement was disconcerting for Jude, but his defensiveness was allayed by the honesty of it.  “Have the other kids been at boarding schools before?”

          “It’s unlikely, from what I’ve heard this will be the first year for most of the third formers.”

          “What about the first and second formers?”

          “There aren’t any.  The school dropped that program ages ago.”

          “How do you know all this?”

          “Do you not read?”

          Jude was a bit offended by the bite in Mehmet’s comment, but he persuaded himself this was just another attempt at a joke. “Obviously not enough of whatever you seem to find entertaining.”

          Mehmet smirked, then reached under his bed and drew out a glossy magazine emblazoned with the school crest and a shot of the lake on campus. He tossed it to Jude. “It’s all in there.  I suggest taking to the loo.  Read it and then use it as a bog roll.”

          “Loo? Bog roll?”

          Mehmet sighed and rolled his eyes. “Bring it to the shitter and use it as toilet paper.” He said in what was a reasonably good impression of an American doing a cowboy impersonation.

          Jude laughed.  Mehmet would take some time to get used to, but Jude actually felt a little hopeful about his roommate situation.  He did have to use the bathroom, so he got up and announced his intention to Mehmet, who only nodded his head and turned another page in his magazine. 

          Jude's room was one of six assigned to students in the dorm, a large brick and carved masonry structure that had the appearance of being some sort of monastery or small château.  There was a large common room in the center of the building.  On one side of the common room was the hall with the boys' rooms, three on the first floor then three on the second.  Jude’s room was the last on the second floor, directly above the common room. On the other side of the common room were the living suites for the faculty that supervised the boys. Also appended to the common room through a bulky wood door was a sort of kitchen area with a sink, some countertops and cupboards, a dining table and a large refrigerator. There were bathrooms scattered throughout the building, one on each floor of the boys’ quarters, and another down a short hallway off the kitchen.  It was enough that you could easily find an available shower or toilet, but not enough that it could be any sort of refuge.  Which is what Jude wanted at the moment.  

          He meandered into the common room in search of an unoccupied bathroom only to find a group of boys he could only presume would be his classmates.  There were only about ninety kids in his entire form, forty-three of which were boys. Twelve of them lived in this dorm.  Four of them were in the common room.  One of them looked over at Jude.  He smiled and waved. 

          Jude was sure he felt his lungs collapse.  The boy was about Jude’s height, probably five foot eight, with sandy blonde hair and a solid build.  His smile was dazzling.  He had always had a thing for boys.  

          His hand was outstretched.  Breathe.  Stop smiling like an idiot.  Jude's stomach had dropped down and out of him.  He was pretty sure it had just reached the mantle of the earth.  

          "Hi, I'm Connor!"

          "Hi!" Jude said, shaking his hand.  He couldn't figure out why Connor was giving him such an odd look.  

          "What's your name?" He asked cheerfully.  

          Oh, right, that part.  They have to call you something.  "Jude. I'm Jude." He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. 

          "Cool.  Where ya from?" 

          "Uh, San Diego, it's in California." Jude said pointing his thumb back over his shoulder as if somehow that was the direction of California.  

          "Yeah, I know where San Diego is." He smiled. 

          "Oh, yeah, right, of course it's pretty well known I guess." He stammered out.  "Ahhh, so where are you from?"

          "A couple of different places.  Mostly Washington, D.C." 

          "Oh cool."  Jude nodded.  He did not know if this was actually cool or not.  

          "Stevens!" Another kid yelled from the other side if the room.  Connor turned to look at him with that blazing smile.  

          Being momentarily released from Connor’s spell, Jude scampered away, terrified that he might say something stupid.  He slipped into the bathroom and took a deep breath.  In San Diego he had had a fairly intense crush on close to only friend, a funny little character named Mark. Jude would frequently find himself daydreaming about Mark coming out of the closet, being able to hold his hand, blissfully cuddling away the afternoons together.  He had been looking forward to maybe having that fantasy recede.  The joy of the fantasy was undercut by the longing for the impossible.  He hated that they could only be friends.  Part of his enthusiasm for boarding school had been removing himself from feeling like that.  Now it looked and felt like he was about to supplant one impossibility with another.    

 

***

 

          Jude splashed some water on his face, calming himself down in the bathroom for a minute and regaining his composure.  He returned to the common room. His usual course of action would have been to go back to his room or take a walk somewhere, but he was feeling a little saucy and perhaps even a little giddy from his recent introduction to Connor.  Also, he wasn’t that familiar with the hundreds of acres that made up the campus, and it would have been a short walk anyway.  This afternoon the whole dorm was to have a mandatory bonding session.  It was apparently only the first of many such gatherings that they were to endure during their tenure at the school. 

          It didn't take long for all twelve of the boys and their three live-in faculty members to gather in the spacious common room.  Jude sat down on a love-seat and finally took the time to examine the room in detail.  Apart from a fireplace that could be described as medieval in scale, there were an abundance of books lining the walls, stuffing the shelves and leaving only a small amount of room for oddments like an astrolabe (Jude does not know what an astrolabe is), the bust of Theodore Roosevelt, and a set of tiny figurines set in a lewd position that had been left there long ago by a former student, somehow overlooked in the decades since they had appeared. 

          Where there were no books, there were paintings of lush valley landscapes and colonial towns. The floor was made of broad, wood planks, but covered by two large Persian rugs.  One rug was largely yellow with running motif of blossoms and lotus flowers.  The other was mostly red and patterned with lilies and star-shapes.  There were also numerous heavy coffee tables interspersed throughout the room near the stuffed furniture, and desks and other tables along the edges of the room, presumably for studying.  The many stuffed chairs and sofas were all identically upholstered in a sparse floral pattern on a background of white.  They clashed beautifully with the rugs.  

          Jude was so transfixed examining the details of the room that he had hardly noticed someone had sat down next to him.  It was the nudge of an elbow in his arm that brought him back to his neighbor.   

          Jude had spent the better part of the last two years dissuading himself from fantasy, concentrating on not reading into things, but somehow in the moment he was never able to do it.  It took concentration afterward to undo the lies he told himself.  In this instance he was over analyzing the fact that Connor had chosen to sit next to him despite there being ample single seats elsewhere in the room.  This was amplified by the fact that Connor was not cleaving to the armrest, rather he had situated his body right in the middle of the cushion—close enough that they could not have both had their arms extended very far before they were touching.  Jude knew then that it would be the better part of the next few days before he could talk himself down from thinking this guy could possibly be gay, and even more improbably, interested in him.  

          "You space out a lot, huh?" Connor asked lightly. 

          Jude moved from stunned to embarrassed.  "Uh, sometimes.  I was just..." He trailed off, pointing around at the decor of the room.  

          "It's pretty crazy in here, right?" Connor nodded in agreement.  

          "Yeah, it looks like the term ‘understated’ was not in wide use when they decorated this place." Jude said wryly.

          Connor laughed out loud and gave Jude a backhand slap on the arm.  Jude was just as pleased.  

          "Good evening, boys!" Said a kind-looking older gentleman that Jude had been introduced to earlier in the day. It was Professor Moore, one of the three faculty that lived in the house with the boys.  He was also the philosophy teacher.  Or something along that line.  "As most of you know, I am Professor Moore, one of your faculty advisors.  This is my twenty seventh consecutive year of being a professor here at St. Thomas's Academy." He swept his arm to the side, gesturing to the two younger men standing next to him. "This is Professor Nickerson." He gestured to a guy with closely cropped dark hair. Jude guessed he was in his late twenties.  His most distinguishing feature was his pants. They were the most brilliantly colored pants Jude had ever seen, a patchwork of mixed plaids in yellows and blues.  Jude would later learn that pants of that style are called madras, and were something of a wardrobe staple in these parts.  

          Jude was still staring at the pants when he felt another nudge on his arm.  Connor signaled to Nickerson’s pants with a flick of his eyes and a scrunched brow.  He mouthed out "wow".  This resulted in much snickering on Jude's part.  He did his best to stifle it.  Connor backhanded Jude's chest.  Jude looked up to see the Professor looking at him, obviously aware of what had just transpired.  At first he was a little mortified, but Nickerson’s somewhat menacing stance was belied by a disarming and mirthful smirk.

          “As Professor Moore said, I’m Professor Nickerson. This is my third year as faculty. About half of you will be in my history class.” He was casual in his tone, rocking back and forth on his heels as he spoke. “The other half, well, I’m sorry that fate has robbed you of my glorious presence in the classroom.” He said sarcastically.  There were some chuckles from the audience, at which Nickerson drew a light smile. 

          Professor Moore moved on. "This is Professor Kennedy." Kennedy was taller than either Moore or Nickerson, with dirty blonde hair, and a face like a crag- though he was far from homely.

          "Before anyone asks, I am not related to _the_ Kennedy's." This got another small chuckle out of the boys.  "This is my seventh year here.  I teach upper level math courses for the fifth and sixth formers, and so you all have lucked out of basking in my glory." He glanced over at Nickerson and grinned, who returned a congenial laugh.  "Now, why don't we all go around and introduce ourselves.  Be sure to tell us an interesting fact about yourself, or if it's easier, what sport you intend to play."

          Jude had conveniently forgotten that sports were mandatory here, and that he would have to chose one for each of the fall, winter, and spring terms.  It made him a little nauseous.  He tried to forget about it again.  

          By turns, the boys went around the room.  There was a boisterous, heavy-set kid from New York, Asher Grumman, whose interests seemed to be dumplings and lacrosse. Next was James Bradford, a boy with a sharp, long face and a slow, deliberate means of address.  He thought it would be interesting to say he was descended from the first governor of Massachusetts.  Then Harvey and Max Wu, hyperactive twins from Chicago who were dead set on being just like Venus and Serena Williams.  After them was Adrian Moore (“no relation”), a soft spoken boy from D.C.—a fact that got a little whoop from Connor—who loved to read and play chess.  Then came Mehmet. 

            “I’m Mehmet Ozdemir.  I am from Turkey, but was mostly raised in England.  I am a dancer.” He said casually.

            “Wait, like ballet?” Asher interjected loudly.

            “Ya guy, like ballet.” Mehmet responded, perfectly mimicking Asher’s heavy New York accent.  There was a general snickering among the boys, even Asher seemed to think it was quite amusing. 

            Asher started to say something else with a mischievous grin on his face, but was cut off by Moore “Okay, boys, let’s keep focused here.” He turned to the next boy, signaling to him to speak.

            Jude only partially paid attention.  He was caught up thinking about the oddity of his roommate, and the strange mix of personalities and backgrounds that seemed to inhabit his dorm. Elian Morena, from Argentina, said he liked squash.  Harrison Wyld introduced himself as a motor sports enthusiast from Connecticut. There was a kid from Hong Kong named Etienne Lafayette.  He liked playing the piano.  Then came Sam Peabody, who mumbled something about New Jersey and math. Jude wondered if all of them could ever possibly be friends. 

          That though was cut short when it came time for Connor’s turn.  Connor sat up on the couch at attention. “Connor Stevens,” he said with gusto, "I'm really excited about crew and art classes." 

          Jude wasn't sure what crew meant, but he was surprised by the comment about art. Connor seemed so athletic and sporty, he couldn’t square that image with someone who was artsy. He didn’t have long to think about it—he came-to and realized everyone was looking at him in silence. Jude was slightly at a loss now that his turn had come.  "I'm Jude Adams-Foster from San Diego, and I um, I guess I like writing and being outside." He said, shrugging it off.  He hoped that was sufficient exposure.  

          "Well, very good. Now that we have introductions out of the way, let's turn to some of our house rules." Moore said satisfied.  He then proceeded to explain the school’s general rules and what sounded like an absolutely Byzantine system of merits and demerits for good and bad behavior.  Jude didn’t quite catch all of it.  He would have to ask Mehmet later. 

          At the conclusion of Moore's speech, the boys began stirring.  They had a so-called seated meal this evening- a semi-formal dining experience involving all of the students and faculty.  The dress code was a shirt, tie, and an official school blazer.  Jude had been fitted for his a little earlier in the summer.  

          Jude started toward his room, and he was happy to see Connor walking along side him. 

          "So what sport are you going to play?" Connor asked. 

          Exasperated Jude replied "Oh god, I have no frickin clue."

          "What are you good at?"

          Jude whistled. "That's the problem, I'm not good at anything."

          "I'm sure your good at something." Connor said as if he couldn't fathom someone not being good at a sport. 

          "I am soooo not an athlete- I'm so uncoordinated that it's a miracle I don't die walking down the stairs in the morning." Jude quipped. 

          Connor seemed to think that was quite funny.  They walked up the stairs and to the end of the hallway.  "Is this your room?"

          "Yup." He shoved his hands in His pockets.  

          "I'm right there." Connor pointed across the way to the first room at the top of the stairs.  

          Jude was happy to know that they were on the same floor. Not that they would have been very far apart in any event—there were only six student rooms in the house to begin with, and they were all down this one, winding corridor.  

          "Can I come in?" Connor asked quickly. 

          "Sure." Jude said, trying to balance being welcoming without sounding overexcited. Connor had, after all, walked right past his own room.   

          Each of the student bedrooms in the house had essentially the same layout.  The door opened into a short hallway with a door on each side that led into a deep closet for clothing and other storage, after which the room widened up.  Along the wall closest to the door were low bookshelves and a tall floor lamp in each corner, ready to cast light on the desk that sat opposite of the bookshelf, which was situated such that when a student sat at the desk their back was to the shelf.  The foot of the bed ran up against the back of the desk.  The bed stretched all the way to the end of the room.   In between the beds were two small nightstands tucked up against the back wall and their respective beds. The gap between the beds was wide enough to allow for someone to lay between them head to toe.  

          The room was lit in the day by the ample sunlight that streamed in through large windows, one over the head of each bed.  The view was of a small copse of trees that stood leaning over one of the many streams that meandered through the campus.  Across the stream and over a small stone bridge there was a field that rolled down to a grand boathouse and the lake.  

            Jude pointed to the furnishings on the right and said “Welcome to my room.” Connor helped himself to a seat on Jude’s nightstand, pushing aside the lamp that lived there.  Jude sat on his bed. 

            “So we should figure out what sport you’re going to do.” Connor said decisively.

            “I guess.” Jude acquiesced.

            Connor took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and unfurled it. Jude could see that it was the athletic sign-up sheet they had been sent in the mail several weeks earlier. It had been filled out with tiny, neat handwriting. 

            Connor looked Jude up and down in silent assessment.  “You probably don’t want to do football.”

            “No way.” Jude said, waving his hands in dismissal.

            “How about Soccer? That’s pretty easy.” Connor suggested.

            “No, I care about my shins, thank you very much.” Jude retorted. “Besides, that’s only in the fall and spring and I would rather not have to agonize about this again in the winter.”

            “The only two sports that run all three terms are cross country and crew.” Connor said, looking at the form.

            “I guess I could do cross country.”

            “What about crew?” Connor asked.

            “I don’t even know what that is.”

          “Really?” Connor said, surprised.

          Jude felt embarrassed. It was turning out that there was a lot he didn’t know about. “Nope.”

          “It’s rowing.  I love it.” Connor said happily.

          “I gathered as much.” Jude nodded and smiled. “What do you do?”

          “You row.” Mehmet snarked as he walked into the room. 

          Jude raised his eyebrows “No shit!” he replied in faux amazement.

          “He’s actually kind of right, it’s basically just rowing.” Connor laughed. “It can be hard work, but it’s, I don’t know, I guess it’s very…zen.”

          “That sounds alright.” Jude paused. “But you row in the winter?”

          “During winter it’s mostly weight training and indoor stuff.”  

          Jude shrugged. “I don’t know.  I’m not very...muscle-y.”  

          “It doesn’t matter.  Can you keep a beat?”

          “What?”

          “Like, can you tap your foot along with a song and keep a beat?” Connor queried.

          Jude was happy to say “Strangely enough, I actually can.”

          “That’s all you need!” Connor looked at him imploringly and pleaded “C’mon! Do crew with me!”

          Fighting back the urge convulse with joy at the thought of this overgrown puppy being so nice to him, Jude simply shook his head and sighed “Crew it is then.”

          Connor hopped off the nightstand and raised his hand to high five Jude, who got up and did his part to make that happen.  “Sweet!” Connor said.

          There was a knock at the door.  The boys looked over to see Nickerson leaning into room, resting his arms on the door frame. “There are a group of us leaving for dinner in about fifteen minutes. You can join us if you like, or if you rather you can make your way over on your own.  Either way, dinner starts at six-thirty sharp. Don’t be late.”

          “Thank you, professor. It wouldn’t do to have a demerit so early in the term.” Mehmet said politely, though not without a hint of mischief.

          Nickerson chortled a little.  “You’re welcome, and while we are in the house there is no need to be so formal, you can call me Tom.” He said warmly.  He rapped on the door frame a couple of times and walked back down the hallway.  They could hear him as he repeated his speech to the guys in the next room.

          Connor looked at Jude and asked “Walk with me?”

          “Sure!” Jude chirped.  This was not going to help him beat down his false hopes.

          Connor looked expectantly at Mehmet with the same earnest smile.  Jude thought that would help, though.   

          Mehmet nodded his acceptance of the invitation, and Connor left the room to change.

          After a moment had passed, Mehmet shut the door.

          “It looks like you’ve made a friend.” He said nonchalantly.

          Jude didn’t really know how to respond to that.  He only shrugged and mumbled “I guess.” Then he looked at Mehmet. “We’re friends, though, right?”

          Mehmet smiled and nodded. “I think so.”

          The boys put on their dinner clothes.  Though he had only had his blazer fitted a couple of months ago, the sleeves were already a little too short.  They made their way to the front of the dorm and only had to wait a moment before Connor emerged with Asher.  With a short nod from Connor, they set off toward the dining hall ahead of the other boys congregating and waiting for the professors to join.  The four of them chatted and laughed as they strolled through the campus.  

          Jude took a deep breath, enjoying the light breeze and the warmth of the setting sun. He looked over at the other three, who were in the midst of some conversation about what they could expect for coursework.  For the first time since he had arrived that morning, he felt somewhat relaxed, and possibly even cautiously optimistic about this whole thing.  There was still a nagging sense of homesickness in his chest, but it had subsided a little. 

          Connor swatted his arm, laughing about something or another.  Jude snapped his head over to look at him, at those eyes, those bright, cheerful eyes.  He faked a laugh and looked down at the ground.  He knew that no amount of staring at Connor would sate the butterflies in his stomach.  The only thing that could do that was the impossible.  He didn’t know why he had to feel like this.  He wished he didn’t.


	2. First Lessons

          Classes started the day after arrival.  Jude woke to his blaring alarm after a fitful sleep filled with wild dreams.  The kind of dream that sticks as a vague uneasiness about the things dreamt, but with no recollection of what actually happened.  He rolled over and Mehmet was already out of his bed.  Jude guessed he was in the shower, certainly not already at breakfast.  The clock on the wall read 7:00 a.m.  He had an hour and a half to get ready, eat breakfast, and get to class.

          His feet hit the floor with a thud, the floor creaked as he walked, the closet door whined as it was opened, and Jude groaned as he reached for his towel.  He shuffled bleary-eyed down the hallway to the bathroom to shower.  He could hear that the other boys on his floor were on roughly the same schedule.  He had been too distracted yesterday to note how much sound traveled through the dorm--and how much the dorm itself had to say.  The bang of hot water running through pipes, brass locks clicking and clacking as doors were opened and closed, the sound of ancient bones giving way as the boys scurried about their morning.

          He dragged open the heavy door of the bathroom, adding to the choir of peculiar sounds.  The showers, three smallish individual stalls, were all occupied.  He started an about-face to find another bathroom, but one of the faucets stopped.  A strong looking arm reached out and grabbed the towel hooked to the shower frame.  Jude stood, leaning on the sink, hugging his bathrobe shut and gripping his towel as a comfort against the feeling of the morning.

          The sound of brass rings rapidly sliding against a rail drew Jude's attention to the retracting curtain.  Jude was finally able to pinpoint the uneasiness from his dream.  Connor emerged from the shower wrapped in a large blue and white striped towel.  Jude felt his mouth sag open.  He caught himself, and looked at the black and white checkered tile floor.

          "Sorry." Jude said quickly.

          "For what?" Connor asked, confused.

          "I dunno, I guess I'm just standing here being a weirdo." Jude replied.  He should have waited outside.

          "Nah, it's fine. Gotta be aggressive!" He said chipperly, slapping Jude's arm.  
          Jude just smiled and nodded.  He could not fathom how Connor could possibly be so perky at this hour.

          "Are you heading right to breakfast?" Connor said, leaning over the sink and picking through a little toiletry bag.  

          Asher walked into the bathroom and gave a nod to the two of them.

          "Jude's next." Connor said to his roommate’s reflection in the mirror.

          Jude seized the moment when Asher paused to say something back to Connor, beating him to the shower.  

          "Wait, how did that happen?" Asher questioned in displeasure. 

          "Oh calm yourself." Mehmet's upbraiding voice echoed out of the shower stall in the corner. "I'll be out in just a moment."

          "Are we walking to breakfast together?" Connor asked of the group.

          There was a muttering of approval from Asher and Mehmet.  

          Jude had his head underneath the shower-head and did not hear.  He was lost in the feeling of the hot water running down his head.  He loved that feeling.  He was also thinking about how this was to be the normal.  That he would be waking up every day to stand, nearly naked, in a bathroom with—

          "JUDE!" 

          He whipped his head out of the spray to see Connor's face peeking into the shower.  He yelled in shock "Jesus Christ Connor!", grabbing the curtain and slamming it closed in his face.   He heard the other boys howling with laughter.  It was not the way he had thought his morning would start.  He could not believe that Connor--who had seemed so genuinely nice the day before--would harass him like that.  It didn't feel playful.  

          "So are you going to walk with us or what?" Connor asked jovially through the curtain.  

          Jude could tell he was just on the other side.  He was unsure of whether he wanted to now or not.  He feared becoming the runt of the group, the kid that was there as a punching bag.  Wavering, Jude said "Yes."  He figured it would be worse to end up outside the group and still finding himself being used as a punching bag.  

          "Okay.  See you outside." Connor said. 

          Jude heard him and Mehmet leave the bathroom giggling about something.  He presumed it was about him. It was like reliving the 7th grade. He decided to hop out of the shower before Asher finished up.  He brushed his teeth quickly, finishing just as both of the other showers stopped running.  He didn't want to know the identity of the other occupant, so he made it his business to get back to his room as quickly as possible. He changed and met the other three outside the dorm.  

          As they walked, Jude made sure to trail a little bit behind them.  He was quite alright that they didn't seem to notice, that they were lost in whatever banter was being exchanged.  This carried through breakfast, standing in line at the cafeteria selecting whatever breakfast items, sitting at a table near the window that looked out onto a quad.  Jude was halfway through his eggs when he noticed that Connor was looking at him out of the corner of his eye.  He felt what was certainly an intentional tapping on his foot and ventured a look around the table to identify the culprit.  Connor was no longer looking at him out of the corner of his eye, he had moved on to a direct and quizzical scan of Jude’s face.

          "Want a banana?" Connor asked with a grin. 

          Jude was nervous that this was a setup. "No. I'm okay."  He returned to his eggs.

          "Are you sure?" He asked again, attempting to induce Jude into a yes.

          "Yes, Connor, I'm sure." Jude fended him off.  

          "Have it your way." Connor rose and walked off toward the fruit bar.

          In the short time it took Jude to finish his eggs, Connor had returned holding two bananas.  He sat and pounded them on the table like drum sticks, bobbing his head up and down to the beat, occasionally sounding out the crash of cymbals.  Jude hated how adorable he was, and he was still upset about the shower, but he could not cork his laughter.  He noted that there was a trace of satisfaction in Connor's expression.  

          "You guys ready to go?" Connor asked without interrupting his performance.

          "We still have like thirty minutes before class." Moaned Asher.  "Why are you so goddamn eager!" He yelled in a poor rendition of Arnold Schwarzenegger.  Several students at other tables turned to look at the minor spectacle.  

          "You're the only one yelling." Mehmet said flippantly at Asher.  

          Connor raised his chin and said haughtily "I have high seating standards." 

          "Oh, how high up the professor's rectum do you plan on sitting?" Mehmet asked flatly.  

          Connor stopped drumming and leveled his eyes at Mehmet.  "High enough that I can peer into the back of his skull and see the answers to the tests." He said in a low growl.  Still staring at Mehmet, he bit the top off one of the bananas.  His composure lasted the entirety of two seconds before he spat out the banana, face scrunched in disgust. "That's gross." He turned to Jude and said seriously "That was gross." 

          "I think that was pretty foreseeable." Jude teased. 

          "I'm feeling so attacked right now." Connor huffed, holding up his hands in surrender.  

          "To be fair, you did just suggest some sort of odyssey through our professor's colon." Jude wisecracked.  He thought maybe he could get a handle on this sort of ribbing that had caused him so much agony in middle school.  Perhaps that was the secret to not being the runt.  

          Connor reluctantly nodded in agreement and tapped out a sad little beat with the remainder of the bitten banana.  "But seriously, are you ready to go?" He asked Jude.  

          Jude gave a thumbs-up. He gathered the detritus of his meal and the other boys followed suit.

          The cafeteria was housed in a building called Tremont Hall, located in the center of the campus. It was one of the larger structures there, having not only the cafeteria, but also an auditorium, a store called the Tuck Shop that sold sundry goods and snacks, the school book store, and a sort of deli counter that offered a small menu of hot and cold sandwiches, soups, and the like at all hours of the day.  Directly across the main entrance to Tremont Hall was the building to which the boys were headed, Hamilton Hall, home to the humanities department.  

          "So do you guys have Pierce for history?" Asher asked, looking around to the other boys. 

          "Indeed." Mehmet replied. 

          "Yeah, bitch!" Asher tried to high five Mehmet.  Mehmet stepped back and eyed Asher suspiciously.  "Mehmet! Give me a goddamn high five right now!" Asher bellowed out, attempting to enforce his friendliness by sheer volume.  

          Mehmet bore himself like someone had just defecated on his lunch.  

          "Mehmet, do you have figs in your fucking ears?" Asher chided. He approached Mehmet with his hand up insistently.  

          "Figs?" Everyone else asked at once.  

          "Shut up! The lot of you!" Asher said smiling widely.  "He's Turkish.  They grow figs." He looked at them as if this was supposed to explain everything.  When the expected laughter was not forthcoming he simply shook his head and mumbled  "Oy vey."  That got a chuckle.  

          "So that means we're in history with Nickerson together." Connor said, winging out his elbow into Jude's bicep.  

          Jude smirked, looked directly at Mehmet, put his hand up in front of Connor and whooped "yeah, bitch!" Connor struck his hand square on, creating an audible echo in the vestibule to the building.  Jude held his gaze with Mehmet despite the searing pain in his hand.  Mehmet’s only response was sighing "Americans" with a look of despairing resignation.  

          Asher and Mehmet parted company with Jude and Connor, walking up the stairs to their classroom.   The latter set were able to walk only a few feet down the hallway to reach their destination.  

          Jude and Connor entered their classroom, which to neither of their surprise was just as heavily lathered in dark wood molding as their dorm.  Unlike the typical American classroom that is filled with rows of desks facing the front of the room, there was one large oval table that occupied the center of the space.  Nickerson was seated on top of a large desk in the corner, already cluttered with stacks of paper.  He was staring intently at a sheet of paper.  

          "Hey professor!" Jude greeted him.

          Nickerson jolted his head up in surprise. "Good morning!" He said in welcome.  "Jude and Connor, right?"

          Both boys nodded and smiled.  Connor, with his thumbs in the straps of his book bag, pointed around the table with a questioning expression.  

          "Yes, sit anywhere you like.  There's not going to be any assigned seating." Nickerson gestured at the entire table.  

          Had Jude been paying closer attention during his tour of the school several months earlier, he would have recognized this classroom arrangement as part of the Harkness Method- a way of teaching that centers around class discussion facilitated by the professor.  The idea is that students develop critical thinking skills and a deeper understanding of the subject matter by having to discuss the material and defend their thinking to their classmates and the professor. The method requires a small class size, and in this case there were only about a dozen seats around the table.

          Jude and Connor chose seats next to each other, facing one of the windows that looked back out into the quad from which they had netted the building. Nickerson resumed studying his sheet, only glancing up to welcome the students as they arrived and to tell them to pick any seat. 

          Once the table was filled, Nickerson hopped off of his perch in the corner of the room, fluidly closing the door to the room at the same time.  This was the moment that Jude looked around the room and noticed that he and Connor were the only boys from the dorm in this section.  There were three other boys of unknown origin and seven girls, also unknown.  Jude was suddenly anxious that he would be subjected to yet another torturous introduction ceremony.  He looked down at his little laptop, a bare-bones device that was barely more than a keyboard and a small monitor.  It’s functionality was essentially limited to word processing and web browsing.  He looked back around the room trying to guess what people might say about themselves.  Then he noticed something- none of them had a laptop similar to his. They were buried behind large laptops and tablets emblazoned with glowing apples. 

          The sight brought Jude back to a conversation he had with his moms prior to leaving for school.  

          "Listen, bubba, we need to talk a little about this school." Lena had said to him across the kitchen table.  Her discomfited tone drew Jude's attention away from the remainder of his breakfast.  He would be leaving for boarding school in a few short weeks.  "You know that mom and I and this family are financially stable, and that we are better off than a lot of families.  We do not, however, have unlimited resources.  We can only afford to send you to St. Thomas's because of your scholarship." 

          Jude stopped eating altogether, unable to see where this was going.  "Do you not want me to go?" He really wanted to go. 

          "No, sweetheart, of course we want you to go. This is a wonderful opportunity for you.  It's one if the best schools in the country.  We are happy to do whatever we can to make this happen for you. " She smiled softly. "It's that you need to be aware that a lot of the kids there are going to have a lot of things that you don't have."

          "What do you mean?"

          "I mean, a lot of the families that send there kids to St Thomas's are very wealthy, at least compared to us.  The kids are probably going to talk about fancy vacations that we could never afford, they'll probably have the latest and greatest gadgets and all of the trendiest clothes.  That's not something that mom and I can give you."  

          Jude smiled wide. "I really don't care, mama.  That's not what makes a person.  I feel really lucky, even without the extra stuff."

          At the time, he was certain that the material possessions of others wouldn't bother him.  After all, for most of his childhood he hadn't had much in the way of stuff.  Being the poor kid had basically been his place in life.  It hadn’t ever made him feel good, but he thought at that point it couldn't make him feel any worse.  He was wrong.  He didn’t want to be seen as the poor kid anymore. 

           “You okay?” Connor whispered to him.

          Jude took a deep breath. “Yeah, just a little tired.”  He chided himself for his moment of self-pity.  He knew that by all measures, he was leading a privileged life in his own right. He lived in a comfortable home in a safe neighborhood, had enough to eat at all times, clean clothes that fit, and had been attending a reputable charter school.  Now he was at a prestigious boarding school, where his bedroom was in a small mansion and looked out onto a private lake.  He was sitting in a classroom with only eleven other kids, and with a teacher who had a PhD in history from Yale (Jude had finally read through the email about his classes and professors).  He was to be an active participant in his learning.  And that was where it really hit.  Kids at this school were being trained to be active participants in their lives—kids in other schools are lectured at and knowledge is delivered to them in digestible, one-size-fits-all packets.  These kids were learning how to participate as leaders in the creation of history, and not to be bystanders to its passing.  It made him feel better to think of that.  Still, the seed had been planted that he was an outsider in the land of the elite. 

          Jude felt the growingly familiar touch of Connor's elbow in his arm.  

          "You with us, Jude?" Nickerson joked. 

          "Oh, sorry, got lost in thought there for a minute." Jude apologized, begging Nickerson for mercy with a pleading grimace.  

          "Anything relevant to our discussion?" Nickerson replied. 

          Before Jude could think he said "that would depend on what we were discussing." 

          Nickerson looked to be a little taken back by Jude’s offhand tone, but the fact of the matter was that Jude was, too.  Jude covered his mouth and squirmed in his seat. And then to his further surprise, Nickerson laughed.   

          "Would anyone care to elucidate our colleague on the discussion at hand?" Nickerson said, holding his arms behind his back and looking about the room.

          A brown haired girl with an orange and blue striped polo shirt piped up with a response.  From there the conversation went on unabated, as they talked about the nature of studying history, why it was important to do so, and the need for constant re-thinking of how we look at the world and how we got there.  Several times he thought he had said something stupid, but as class went on he realized that even though his classmates had enjoyed a lifetime of extreme privilege, they were no more or less prone to make un-educated, poorly thought-out statements. All in all, Jude found it to be a satisfying experience.

          A small chime sounded from Nickerson's pocket.  He pulled out his phone and said "and that's all the time we have for discussion today.  In the remaining few minutes I want to say that I think we are off to a good start.  This seems like a lively group, and I look forward to working with you all this year.  As you will see from the syllabus I emailed you, we will be doing a great deal of reading this semester.  It is critical that you do the reading, and that you do it carefully." He paused and smiled at the table. "Okay, get out!" He yelled in good humor, shooing the students out the door. 

          Connor stopped just outside the door, waiting for Jude.  "You've got math with Langevin?" He asked as Jude came through the doorway. 

          "Yeah, I think history and science are the only classes we have together." Jude said disappointed.  

          "Lame." Connor whined.

          “We do have a study period at the same time on Tuesdays and Thursdays, though.” Jude recalled.

          “Oh right.  Cool.” Connor said cheerfully, bobbing his head. "Meet me for lunch?  At the door to the caf?" 

          "Sure!  See you then." Jude replied happily. 

          "Cool." Connor punched Jude in the shoulder and walked down the hallway.  

          The remainder of Jude's morning was filled with math and English.  Jude could have done without math, but English was his favorite subject.  His English professor, Janice Daley, was a vivacious character with long dark hair and a penchant for referring to the students in increasingly bizarre names, from darling, to duckling, to yearling, to hamster, all prefaced with a “my little.”  Whatever the name, it was entirely endearing to Jude.  He basically fell in love with her. 

          Just as Jude was walking out the door of his English class, he was caught by surprise by one of his classmates.  It was Marion Wells, a short girl with a shock of tightly wound curls.  Of course, it would be foolish to equate this young woman’s diminutive size with her personality.  She was, in fact, a fierce debater and once she got rolling was at least ten feet tall.  That is what Jude surmised after she trounced James Bradford (now introducing himself as JP) in a debate when he suggested that Emily Bronte's work was really only meant for women to read. Jude admired that.  In total, she had the undeniable air of someone who was kind, funny, and probably the source of an enormous amount of trouble.  

          "Hey Jude," she said, sidling up to him with a casual grin, as if they had been friends forever.

          "Uhh, hi." Jude replied, a bit muddled by this sudden friendliness.  There were so many kids here that acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world to simply introduce yourself.  They played it off so smoothly, oozing confidence, like they didn't have any idea how badly they could fuck it up.  Maybe that was what it was like being the child of people who had never lost at anything.  They were born winners, and failure was literally inconceivable because they had never experienced it.  "Marion, right?"

          "Yup! I thought some of the things you said in class were pretty smart." She said approvingly.  

          "Oh. I um..." Jude bit his lip.  Taking praise gracefully was a skill that had thus far eluded him.  He concentrated on not tripping on his shoelaces as he trotted down the staircase to the first floor.  They reached the landing halfway down and he finally said "Thanks.  I thought it was awesome how you called out JP on his bullshit." He said laughing.  He looked over his shoulder and leaned in a little bit "He's such a douche.  He's in my dorm and he introduced himself by telling everyone he was descended from the first governor of Massachusetts."

          Marion gave Jude a dirty look and said "Oh gross." 

          "Yeah, it was."  They completed their descent and made their way outside.  

          "You sitting with anyone at lunch today?" She asked.  

          "Yeah, but you can sit with us if you want." He responded.  

          "Oh, I was going to invite you to sit with us." She said surprised. 

          "Umm, well I have plans to meet up with my friend Connor." 

          "Why don't you bring him along." She said as if Jude had already accepted the invitation.  

          "Okay, I'll ask." Jude replied.  

          They settled on a place to meet and then parted ways to rejoin their respective groups. 

          Jude found Connor sitting underneath one of the trees nearby the entrance to Tremont Hall.  He was flipping through what looked to be a thick classroom handout.  

          "Hi Connor." Jude said, walking up to the tree and pausing just short of Connors feet. 

          Connor glimpsed up for a moment and with a grin he creased a page in his packet, closed it and said "Hi." 

          "Ready for lunch? I'm starving." Jude complained. 

          Connor huffed in disapproval "That's because you didn't have a banana this morning." He had his arms flopped at his side. "Are you going to help me up or what?" 

          Jude looked at him sideways.  "Oh my god Connor." He said in disbelief.  Jude stooped to grab Connor's hands, then levered from his knees to pull up Connor's near dead weight.  "Your not even trying!" Jude laughed. 

          "It's good training for crew." Connor beamed. 

          Jude could not believe what a little shit he was.  He tensed his legs and pulled back, hard.  At the same time, Connor had made the decision to get up under his own steam, which had the almost immediate result of Jude flying backward and onto the ground.  Connor now stood over him, the boys having perfectly exchanged their relative positions.  Connor doubled over with laughter, while Jude stared up at him still trying to sort out what had just happened.  Their hands were still clasped together.  

          "Ready?" Connor asked.  He did not wait for a reply and pulled up on Jude, who followed Connors lead and hopped up with the help of his friend.  They stood for a second with their hands together.  Halfway through the second, Jude became acutely aware of the feel of Connors fingertips in his palms.  Jude twitched.  Connor's face flickered.  They dropped their arms.  

          Connor launched into rattling on about the rest of his morning as they walked into the cafeteria.  They collected their lunches, each choosing a different sandwich and flavored fizzy water.  

          "Where do you want to sit?"

          "So I told a girl in my class that I would sit with her today." Jude said, avoiding Connor's eyes.  Jude had no idea why he was nervous about saying that.  Looking back at it, he would realize that he didn't ever want Connor to abandon him for someone else.

          Connor’s face dropped, and he scanned the cafeteria. "Oh. I guess I'll find-"

          "You're invited, too!" Jude added hastily.  

          Connor perked right back up. "Oh, sweet." 

          They meandered over to the designated spot and joined Marion.  She was sitting with a few other girls at one of the larger tables in the center of the cafeteria. Introductions were made by Marion, pointing around the table: Chloe, Ella, Clara, and Jacqueline.  They all lived in the same dorm, called Tuttle House, which was located just across the lane from Connor and Jude's dorm, Edgerly House.  This was unsurprising as all of the third form houses were nestled together in a little neighborhood.  

          Chloe, Ella, and Clara resumed whatever conversation they had been engaged in prior to the boys' arrival.  Jacqueline, who preferred to be called Jackie, and Marion turned their attention to Jude and Connor.  The four of them quickly fell into casual conversation.  Jude noticed Jackie spending most of her time addressing Connor, who returned her inquiries with ease and affability.  Their exchange wasn't about anything particularly deep or meaningful, but it didn't make Jude very happy.  He tried to ignore the sinking feeling by upping his own exchange with Marion.  It was successful in as much as he spent they rest of lunch talking with her about their reading assignments for the semester.  It failed to make Jude less uneasy about Connor, specifically how he wanted Connor to be laughing and talking to him and not some girl (however nice she seemed).  

          The school only designated about half of an hour for lunch, so it wasn't long before the kids had to pack up and head out to class.  The remainder of Jude's academic day consisted of his elective, creative writing, and science.  He was especially happy about creative writing because his English professor also taught this class.  Unlike all of his other classes, creative writing wasn't all third formers.  He was a little nervous at first, being surrounded by these hulking fifth and sixth formers, but over the course of the hour his stomach settled.  Everyone seemed really nice.  

          Despite his happiness with creative writing, he was anxious to get to science and see Connor. The building in which the science classes were held, Brandt Hall, was one of the newer buildings on campus.  It was located a little out of the way from the central cluster of buildings that held most of the classes.  Jude was about halfway there when he spotted Connor sitting on the bench that marked the beginning of the lane to Brandt Hall. Connor also spotted Jude, and having done so, picked himself and his bag up and walked over to meet him.  Jude waved as Connor approached. 

          "I was getting nervous you weren't coming." Connor said lightheartedly. 

          "I didn't realize we had made plans to meet." Jude replied with only a wisp of defensiveness. "But I'm here now!" He added with flare, holding out his arms like a showman concluding a performance.

          Connor laughed.  "It's okay, I just got out of class early.  I figured you would walk this way." 

          Jude was currently battling the urge to wrap his arms around Connor and never let go.  The very notion that Connor had thought of him at all, and that his thought was to meet him on the path to class was almost too much for Jude.  He knew that it was a ridiculously small thing to get excited about; people wait for their friends every day.  He reigned himself in.  Connor was not interested in him like that.  

          Connor continued. "My art teacher let us out a little early and I figured you wouldn't have got here yet." 

          "Oh yeah, how was drawing?" Jude asked, just remembering that Connor said he was interested in art.

          "It was great!" He exuded.  

          "What did you draw?" 

          "We didn't actually draw anything." Connor said, slightly perplexed. "We spent most of the hour just going over what we would be doing this year.  We also took a tour of all the different art classes.  Did you know we have, like, a whole wood shop here? It's crazy.  But anyway, she did give us a drawing assignment that we are supposed to finish by Wednesday."

          "What is it?"

          "We're supposed to draw a scene that captures the essence of school." He said ethereally, an emphasis on the vague nature of the assignment.  

          "What are you going to do?" Jude asked.

          They had reached the door to Brandt Hall.  Connor swiveled a bit and opened the door for Jude.  He bit his lip and said "I was thinking of drawing someone studying." 

          "Oh, cool." Jude said calmly. Beneath his cool exterior, he was jumping up and down like a five year old in a tizzy, screaming, “pick me!”

          Connor audibly inhaled "I was thinking that since crew doesn't start until Wednesday, and if you weren't doing anything else, we could-"

          "Sure." Jude said, making a concerted effort to not sound too eager.  The inner five-year old that had just been yelping to be picked was now flopping around in spasms of joy.  Jude was oddly grateful that he had spent so much time learning how to restrain and control his emotions.  Being screamed at and abused by his previous foster parents was hard, but it was worse when you talked back.  This was nothing by comparison.

          "So maybe this afternoon we could start?"

          "Okay.  Where do you want to go?"

          "I don't know.  The professor said we should try to find a spot with good light.  I was thinking we could try somewhere in the library."  

          "Great.  We can go right after class, maybe try and beat the crowds." Jude suggested. "This is actually really good.  I have to do a creative writing assignment, and I don't need to move a whole lot to do that."

          "What are you going to write?"

          "We have to write something about first impressions." The moment Jude had heard the assignment, his mind had begun turning and developing his idea. 

          "Huh.  Do you know what you're going to write about?" Connor asked.

          "Ehhh, I have a vague idea." Jude said, rocking an open palm back and forth.    

          "Can I read it when you're done?"

          "Maybe." Jude said, blushing.  He wasn’t sure he would want that.  What if it was too obvious?

          They turned a corner in the hallway and found the door to their classroom.  They sat down next to each other around the table and settled in.  Not long after, Asher and Mehmet sauntered in laughing about something.  They took their own seats across the table from Jude and Connor and immediately began talking about the day.  When the subject of lunch came up, Asher took offense.

          “Where were you guys? I though we were going to sit together?” Asher bitched.

          “We were sitting with some girls.” Connor replied with a tone of superiority.

          His reply, the way it sounded so self-congratulatory, was upsetting for Jude.  It reminded him that his fantasy was just that, a fantasy.  Of course Connor would feel triumphant at having successfully socialized with pretty girls.

          “Bros before hoes, dude.” Asher admonished.

          “Well, bros are all you’re ever going to have if you keep that attitude.” Marion sniped, walking into the room.

          Jude gripped his stomach and laughed as Marion sat herself next to Jude.

          Asher looked only half-ashamed, and quickly recovered his poise. “You see what she’s trying do!” He bellowed, lifting his fists to the sky in defiance.  He abruptly stopped, extended his arm and put his hand flat on the table, saying in a serious tone “Seriously though, I was just joking.” It was the lowest volume that Jude had heard him speak in.

          Marion gave him a wry look and said “I’m Marion.”

          The class was called to order and the conversation ended there.  Time could not pass quickly enough for Jude.  All he wanted was for it to end, to find a secluded spot in the library, and to be alone with Connor. He knew it was an impossible dream, but he would revel in it when he could. 


	3. Novices

 

          The main room of the library was built like a basilica, long and barrel vaulted.  The stone slab floor was populated by large tables, and the tables were populated with the serious faces of students buried deep in their reading.  High above the floor were large, arched windows running along the length of both sides of the hall.  Light filtered through them in vast beams that crossed as they illuminated the students below.  As the night approached, those beams would fade and be replaced by the light cast by three grand chandeliers, hung by large black chains from the timber arches that supported the vault.  A student standing on the mezzanine walkway that wound around the entire room could just touch one of the links.

          The stacks existed in deep wings that emanated from the main room.  Unlike the vast, open space of the main hall, the stacks were quiet, close, and wound around the hall like a labyrinth.  Occasional spiral staircases would lead to the second floor of the stacks, lightly punctuating the weight of the wood and the smell of old books.

          Jude and Connor climbed one of these stairs in search of an out of the way nook in which to do their homework.  They wandered along the mezzanine, looking down at the rows upon rows of students.  They took extended detours through the stacks, getting lost and having to find their way back to the mezzanine in order to begin the hunt anew.  There was only a limited time for them to work before dinner, but they didn't seem to mind the distraction.  It was enough to be doing this, exploring, pointing out some unique detail of the library to the other: a small wood gargoyle here, a particularly ponderous looking leather-bound tome there, a humorous shadow cast by a tall sconce and a doorknob.  It earned them more than one glare from the librarians roaming around like sentries guarding a temple. 

          Eventually they found what they were looking for, a small nook with a table and two chairs.  It was hidden away in a deep corner of the stacks.  There was a single large window that lit the secluded spot. Connor declared it perfect for his purposes, and Jude could find no fault with it.

          "Okay, so can you face the window and put your feet up on the sill?" Connor directed, surveying the scene with a frame he formed with his thumbs and forefingers.

          "How am I going to write?"

          "It’s a laptop.  Put it in your lap." Connor said, pleased with his own cleverness.

          Jude adjusted himself accordingly, but as soon as he did Connor seemed displeased.  Connor was sitting across the table from Jude, viewing him in profile.  "Hold on." He said contemplatively.  He rose from his seat and pulled the table and his own chair out of their nook, creating a little barricade to the cove.  Connor seated himself on the floor and propped his drawing pad on his bent knees.  "Perfect."

          "Are you sure? I mean, maybe we should knock out this wall over here to let more light in?" Jude quipped.

          "Shut it.  Just sit there and be pretty."

          Jude almost gagged on his own tongue. He was already a little nervous, but that comment caused him to feel something else entirely: hope.  He snickered, and daringly, but still very casually, said "I thought you were the pretty boy here." He had laced it with sarcasm just in case he was wrong.

          Connor laughed.  "Did Jackie say that?" He asked wolfishly.

          Jude felt a sense of relief at having made his comment a joke rather than a compliment.  Nevertheless, he felt flush with a disappointment veined in embarrassment. “You, uh, like her?” Jude recovered.

          “I guess so, she’s pretty cool.” Connor shifted on the floor, not looking up from his drawing. “I think Marion is into you.” He suddenly added.   

          “Really?” Jude asked, confounded.

          “Yeah, she uh, smiles a lot.” Connor said into his paper. “Do you like her back?”

          Jude didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to tell the truth either.  He felt like if he said no, he would have to say why, and the why was something he couldn’t admit to Connor.  “Sure.” He said. 

          “Cool.” Connor nodded. “We should get to work.”

          Jude said nothing in response, being too jittery to say formulate any more coherent sentences.  It took nearly forty minutes to return to his baseline of crush anxiety.  All the while he struggled with writing his story.

          He wanted to write about meeting Connor.  He wanted to write about the way the hair on the back of his head twisted and shot off in all directions, like little flares streaking off into the sky.  He wanted to write about how his laugh reverberated in a room, infectious in its echo.  He wanted to write about how funny he was, and how gentle he was, and how he had never felt so strongly attached to someone after less than a week.  Maybe he could make the story about a boy and a girl.  He sighed and resumed writing.  It didn’t sit well that even in fiction he had to hide himself.

 

***

 

          The scene repeated itself the next day.  Connor rearranged the furniture in the nook, and Jude sat with his feet up on the windowsill, laptop balanced on his legs.  Connor sat on the floor with his sketch pad.  Yesterday he was using pencils, but today Connor had brought charcoal sticks.  The soft, high pitch scratching sound they made across the paper made Jude cringe and shiver.  He tolerated it fairly well, however, and was able to concentrate on writing his short story.

          Between tucking himself into his sheets last night and getting to the library that afternoon, Jude had altered his protagonist plans.  It had happened in the quad just after lunch that day.  He and Connor had been eating with Marion and Jackie, Asher, Mehmet, and some miscellaneous others.  Lunch had been proceeding much as the day before- light conversation packed in between hurried eating.  Again, Jude found himself slightly dispirited from having to share Connor, especially with Jackie, who was all smiles and good humor.  The worst of it was that Jude actually liked Jackie.  He really couldn't have blamed Connor if he fell for her.

          They were leaving Tremont Hall when Connor dinged him in the arm with his elbow.  Jude had begun to appreciate this gesture.

          "What's up?" Connor asked.

          "Nothing." Jude denied.

          "Bullshit." Connor said quietly.

          Jude laughed nervously. "I'm fine, really." He denied again.

          Connor raised his eyebrows and cast a suspect glance at Jude.  "Well, if that's the case then you won't mind if I-"

          Jude had no time to react.  Connor had bent over, braced his shoulder on Jude's waist and lifted him up like a sack of potatoes.  Without pause, he was off and running across the quad, bellowing like a charging soldier.

          As Connor barreled forward, lurching from side to side under the force of Jude's flailing limbs, Jude could hear his friends' shrieks of laughter echoing off the high brick walls of their school.  He could feel Connor's arm around his waist, clamping him down to his broad shoulders.  Jude knew Connor was strong, but didn't realize quite how strong he was until that moment.  He actually felt safe.  He dropped his head down across Connor's back and wrapped his arms around him—as much as he could, anyway.  You know, for safety.

          With the sounds of his friends slowly, slightly fading in the background, Jude realized that he not only felt safe, he was happy.  This could not have happened last year, or the year before, and certainly not the year before that.  Connor was not trying to torture him.  Those laughing kids were not laughing at him.  Jude was laughing—honestly, joyfully, laughing without reservation.  These people liked him.  And he liked them.

          He kept howling, howling as they ran, howling as they careened forward, howling as the ground retreated below, howling as Tremont Hall wheeled into view, howling as the blue sky and blazing sun filled his eyes and made him squint, howling as his head whipped back and into Connor's palm, howling as they hit the ground.  Jude rolled over crying, laughing in seizures.  Through the tears and hyperventilating he could see Connor's face, scrunched up and flushed, flooded with tears and delight, looking back at him.

          They laid there looking at each other for a moment before a shadow passed over their faces.  Jude felt Connor's hand pushing against his head, slowly tilting Jude's face up toward the figure casting the shadow.  Their breathing had slowed to a manageable rate, though tears still blurred Jude's vision.  All he could make out was the shape of a tall man, a dark cutout against the bright blue of the sky.

          "Boys." The shadow greeted. His voice was deep and gravelly, a voice that teetered on the edge of terrifying and benevolent.

          "Professor Cromwell, I didn't see you, headmaster." Connor wheezed.

          "Clearly not, lest you would have taken greater care in the course of your charge, young man," the Headmaster replied calmly. "I say, I suspect such a tumble at my age would break me."

          "I'm so sorry, Professor, sir." Connor scrambled up, flustered by the encounter.

          Jude followed suit. "I'm sorry too, sir." Jude lamented.

          "No harm, no foul, as they say.  Though it would do well to remember the quad is not a barnyard, with wild animals running about willy-nilly." The Headmaster said in stricture, adding playfully "many of your aging professors would not survive under such conditions, and who would teach you then?"

          Both boys nodded in agreement and acquiescence. "Yes, sir."

          "Very well, run along my little wild animals, go to your classes and become men." Cromwell dismissed them with a shoo, turned, and continued on his way.

          Connor apologized to Jude by way of a sheepish expression.  Jude forgave him with a grin and a punch to the shoulder. And as soon as Cromwell was a safe distance they were joined by their lunch companions, who basked in the humor and low-grade glory of the encounter.

          The party spilt and went their several ways. Connor and Jude made plans to meet before science class at the bench where they had met the day before.  Jude made his way to creative writing.  The Headmaster’s comment about the quad as a barnyard got him thinking, and he was already re-writing his story. Professor Daley had never said that their story of first impressions had to be about people.  If George Orwell could write about farm animals experimenting with communism, Jude thought it was perfectly fine for him to write about animals feeling the pangs of an unrequited crush.

          That afternoon in the library with Connor looking on, Jude's fingers were skittering across his keyboard, typos be damned.  It felt good to be getting it out.  It was like an emotional leeching.  He wondered if Connor would understand if he read it.

 

***

 

          The next day was the first day of Crew practice.  Jude was apprehensive.  The whole sport was a mystery to him, and Connor's commentary on the subject has thus far been sparse.  Even though he and Connor had spent close to every minute of their free time together, Jude had been unable to pry anything useful out of him.  For the most part, his responses had amounted to "don't worry", "you'll be fine", and "you're going to love it."   None of this made Jude feel any of those things.

          The first meeting was held in the boathouse, dubbed the Emerson.  The 20 or so boys, a mix of ages, sat in a semi-circle in the cavernous space that was at the center of the building.  In front of them were massive barn doors that were opened out onto the dock and the lake beyond.  Behind them were another set of barn doors that opened out to the path that lead to the building, and beyond that up a low slope.  At the top of the gentle hill, slightly hidden by a copse of trees, was Edgerly House, Jude and Connor's dormitory.

          On either side of the open space in which the boys were seated, the boathouse winged out.  The wings served as storage for all of the Crew team's equipment.  Jude had yet to confirm it with his own eyes, but he had been told the second floor of the structure housed a private gym, showers, and lounge.

          As they had walked into Emerson it became apparent that Jude and Connor were two of the youngest members of the team.  There were two other boys in the third form that Connor recognized from his English and math classes.  There were numerous hulking sixth formers, all of them tall and well built.  They were already set at doing something with the boats, and only stopped when the coach descended from the catwalk lofted above the open space and that stretched between the two wings of the boathouse.

          The coach stood in the center of the room waiting for the boys to get situated.  He was tall, crowned with a Marine’s buzz cut, and robed in a track suit.  Jude felt his presence in the room was almost clerical, a priest of athletics.  His whistle dangled from his neck like a holy sigil, a pendant used to control the masses.  The clipboard that he gripped firmly was as to a scripture, though its contents were a mystery to Jude.  All access to its secrets was tightly controlled by the ordained.

          The coach introduced himself as Professor Drake.  Jude was shocked to learn this jock taught courses.  German and Italian, specifically.  They could call him coach.  He next introduced this year's team Captain, Haverford James (also called Tuck) who was in many respects a mimic of Drake's appearance: tall, well built, buzz cut, but no track suit.  Coach launched into a talk about practice schedules, behavioral expectations, and the like.  When that topic was exhausted, the coach moved on to talk about the nature and philosophy of rowing crew.

          Every so often Jude would attempt to make a comment to Connor, but he was always rebuffed.  Connor was sitting in rapt attention to the coach's words.  For Jude, most of these words went over his head and were lost.  Some of the words were familiar, but used in a strange context, like shells, blades, and sweeps.  Then there were words he didn't know at all, like sculls, coxswains, and regattas.

          Jude had completely phased out by the time the coach had begun talking about stroke techniques.  His mind had wandered to more verdant grounds.  At first it was productive thinking, namely about how to write a second draft of his creative writing project.  What began as refining his narrative slipped into the fantasy behind the narrative.  Almost involuntarily, his eyes closed as his daydream took hold.

          He was lying in the grass.  Connor would be stretched out on the ground, arm supporting his head, looking a Jude.  Jude would roll over and look at him.  They would laugh.  Connor would punch at his shoulder lightly a couple of times, but on the last beat he would leave his hand on Jude.  They would laugh again.  Connor would say "you're awesome." And Jude would reply the same.  And Jude would grab Connor's hand gently, guiding it to his lips.  And Connor would lean in saying "I've wanted-"

          And there was the sharp feeling of Connor's elbow in his arm again.  Jude reeled in his thoughts and adjusted his pants.

          "Raise your hand." Connor whispered urgently.

          Jude's arm shot up.

          "Great! So if the novices will follow me, please!" Coach Drake said looking at the raised hands.

          The novices were led around Emerson.  Their tour of the facility was interspersed with tidbits of rowing instruction from Drake.   There were only a few novices.  Jude, Connor, Teddy, and Liam were all in the third form.  There was also a fourth former named Garret, and a fifth former named Cameron.  The small size of the group prevented any side conversations so Jude was forced to pay some level of attention.

          The rumors about the second floor turned out to be mostly true.  There was a lounge of sorts, but it was mostly used for team meetings in the winter and little else.  There was a gym, but the equipment was almost exclusively comprised of several machines that looked somewhat like a medieval torture device.  They were called ergometers, or ergs for short.  They had been designed to measure rowing performance and for practice in the winter.  Jude thought Connor looked more like excited at this prospect than anyone had any right to be.  There were also showers of no particular description. The rest of their time at practice was spent helping the older boys with getting the equipment ready for practice on Friday.

          That night after dinner the boys were doing homework in the common room.  Jude was sitting cross legged on the couch with his text book and notes in his lap.  Connor was sitting on the floor just underneath him, resting his back on the foot of the sofa.  They had been like that for at least an hour.  Jude looked up from his book and down at the wisps of blonde hair that twirled out from the bulk of their companions.

          He risked reaching down and raking two of his fingers across the top of Connor's head.  "Hey, you almost done?" He asked, hoping that the query would allay any suspicions.  Jude knew damn well he wasn't.

          Connor tilted his head back as far as he could.  He had a stupid grin on his face. Jude could only just see Connor's pupils.  "I'm getting there.  You?"

          "Same." Jude replied.

          Connor returned to his reading.  Jude thought that went well.

          After another forty-five minutes Connor slammed his book shut.  With a great yawn he laid himself on the floor and stretched out like a cat.  "Be done." Connor whined in frustration to Jude.

          Jude was already watching Connor's display.  "I think I could be done." He said, satisfied.  He stretched out on the couch, aligning his head with Connor's.  "What do you want to do?"

          "I don't know." Connor replied, seemingly surprised at his own answer.  He sat for a second. "I guess we could always just talk."

          "Get a room!" One of the Wu boys joked as he walked behind the couch. Jude still couldn't tell the twins apart.

          Connor laughed and flipped him off.  A gum wrapper landed squarely in his mouth.  The other Wu, emerging from nowhere, cheered himself for his accuracy.  Max and Harvey high-fived.  Connor groaned and his face turned sour for a moment before he looked at the Wu brothers mischievously. He inhaled deeply. The gum wrapper left Connor's mouth at relatively high speed (with some added moisture) and hurtled toward the Wu brothers.  They both cleared out of the way in an astounding display of dexterity.  The ballistic wrapper continued its journey, finally coming to rest with a splat on Asher's cheek.

          Asher yelped "what the fuck?" in both surprise and anger. He rotated his body, trying to trace the trajectory of the projectile.  His eyes landed on Connor, who wore his guilt like a parade banner.  "Traitor!" Asher bellowed in accusation.

          Jude and the Wu brothers were in stitches.  The other boys in the room were now watching in astonishment, smiles cracking open as Asher swiped the saliva-soaked wrapper from his face.  He puffed up his chest, suppressed his laughter, and in a terrible English accent declared "my father is going to hear about this!"

          Connor's own laughter was stultified when he saw Asher's wry smile.  He was also quiet, which was more disconcerting than the smile.  His jaw was wriggling around, and then without much warning a soggy ball of tissue gunned out of Asher's mouth.  It landed on the coffee table, only slightly overshooting its target.

          The next ten seconds were a blur of motion.  Asher vaulted over the back of the couch.  Unfortunately, he was not an accomplished gymnast—or even a mediocre one, for that matter.  The vault collapsed into a flopping barrel roll.  Connor saw the beginning of Asher's vault, and before Asher’s leap had collapsed Connor managed to smack Jude in the arm, yelling "Run!" as he tried to scramble up off the floor.  At the sound of Connor's alarm, Jude was brought out of his laughing fit in just enough time to see a boy twice his size falling over the top of the couch and ready to land right on him.  In response, he rolled off the couch, catching Connor's legs on the way down.  Connor, who had been halfway to standing, lurched forward yelling "Noooooo!" as he crashed back down onto the floor at the feet of Professor Nickerson.

          "What on Earth is going on here?" Nickerson inquired calmly.  He didn't sound displeased, but he didn't sound happy.  Jude thought maybe it was curiosity, but that didn't feel entirely right, either.  "Boys, if you're going to try to kill each other, please try to keep the furniture out of it."

          "Sorry, sir." Jude said, not sure why he was apologizing.  He hadn't even really been involved.

          "Sorry." Asher and Connor chorused.

          Nickerson surveyed the scene.  The boys were slowly composing themselves, but this wave of well-mannered behavior was shallow.  It was only going to remain as long as there was a will to maintain it.  In this case, that will was exclusively Nickerson's.

          Jude and Connor slowly got up onto their feet.  They were eyeing Asher, who was placing his textbooks on the coffee table.  He was chewing something and eyeing the boys in return.  They grabbed their things, waiting for some signal from the professor.  Nickerson took a turn about the room and returned to his quarters.

          As the door clicked, Jude and Connor were off and running.  Asher leapt from the couch.    A stunned looking Aiden tried to clear out of the way of his own volition, but was shoved aside by a cackling Connor before he could react.  He was pushed aside again as Asher came through like a juggernaut.

          The boys sprinted up the stairs and down the hall to Jude's room.  They flew inside and Connor tried to shut the door behind them, but Asher's foot slammed through the threshold and the door rebounded open.  By the time Asher was within firing range, Connor was already cowering on the bed, trying to ward off the inevitable.  Jude would have been laughing more, but Jude had been cowering on the bed first and was currently being crushed by Connor.

          "You deserve this." Asher triumphed.

          "Noooo." Connor whined and pleaded.  There was the distinct sound of spitting, and Jude felt Connor flinch on top of him. "Ohh, gross." Connor agonized.  The door latch clicked into place. Connor adjusted his weight off of Jude, but he was still partly laying on him.

          Jude's face was buried in his pillow.  He could feel Connor's whole body stretched across him.  Their arms were tucked between them.  If Jude lifted his head there would only be centimeters between their lips.

          Connor exhaled and Jude felt their fingers fidgeting against each other.  Jude gasped and flinched.  Connor rolled off of him.  "Do you want to watch some crew videos?"  Connor asked nervously, running his hands through his hair.

          Jude sat up. "Ahh, sure."

          Connor jogged out of the room and returned with his laptop.  Jude was daydreaming about Connor's fingers brushing against his.  Connor settled into the bed with his back resting against the wall.  Jude sat up next to him as Connor searched through YouTube for a good video to watch.

          "Can you see?" Connor asked.

          "Yeah."

          "You sure?" He replied, seemingly concerned.

          Jude hesitated for a second. He felt like he was missing something.

          "Here." Connor shuffled closer to Jude and adjusted the laptop.  "Better?"

          Jude smiled and chirped out "yes."  Their arms were touching, one of Connor's crossed legs was on top of Jude's, and there was no sign of further movement.  The rowers on the screen were gliding across the water.  Their strokes were rhythmic, moving rapidly in time to a beat.  Jude could feel his heart doing the same thing.


End file.
